


Magic

by star_named_andy



Series: Barduil One-Shots [6]
Category: The Hobbit (1977), The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Cute, Fluff, M/M, Middle Earth, baby!thranduil, sneaky!gandalf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-29
Updated: 2015-04-29
Packaged: 2018-03-26 07:37:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3842503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/star_named_andy/pseuds/star_named_andy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Transformation by magic is what sparks this particular tale and it causes quite a ruckus in the kingdoms of Dale and Mirkwood in the realm that is Middle-Earth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Magic

**Author's Note:**

> I was feeling emotional, so I finished up this little thing I started a while ago. Enjoy!!  
> (Disclaimer: I do not own the Hobbit, Lord of the Rings, or any of its characters or content.)

Magic is a force that is boundless; it can bring two people together in love, inspire hatred, raise armies, bring peace, and transform the appearance of any being or object. Transformation by magic is what sparks this particular tale and it causes quite a ruckus in the kingdoms of Dale and Mirkwood in the realm that is Middle-Earth.

The newly crowned king of Dale, Bard, had been thrust into his position in an odd series of events by the people’s choice. A mischievous troupe of dwarves came marching through his old home of Laketown just two short years ago. They claimed that they would slay the dragon Smaug who occupied the Lonely Mountain and all of its dwarven treasures to regain their homeland of Erebor. In result of their determination, Laketown was burnt to ashes, Bard slayed the dragon, all-out war erupted, Dale was recovered, and Bard was now a king instead of a bargeman. Oh, and let’s not forget the elven king of Mirkwood that Bard had the fortune of meeting through the tragic circumstance of war.

Thranduil was the greatest gift that Bard had the blessing of receiving through the spoils of war (along with the safety of his beloved children and his people, of course). He had been awarded mountains of jewels and gold, most of which was contributed to the restoration of Dale, but even with riches left over, Bard always recognized Thranduil a most precious treasure more valuable than even the infamous arkenstone. Yes, it was true. Bard had fallen for the legendary, stoic and striking king of the woodland realm and much to Bard’s disbelief, his affections had been reciprocated.

Ever since the war had ended and Bard became king, he and Thranduil both ruled their kingdoms with one hand and then balanced their distribution of love for their children and each other in the other. It was no easy task to carry on with such an unlikely romance while juggling so many duties, but to these two kings, it was worth it to make the time for their love to bloom. After their first time making love, it was even _more_ worth the trouble.

They exchanged letters when they could not see one another and more often than not, the messages were filled with profound and sweet professions of love and dirty, nasty, animal, and downright sinful deeds that they wished to bestow upon each other when they next met. They may have been classy, efficient rulers and caring and warm fathers, but they were also wild and insanely ardent lovers. How could they not be with one being so spellbound by the other and only being able to sparsely see each other in person?

Given all of this and the two years they had spent enchanted by each other, it was perfectly warranted that bard was nearly claimed into the vicious grips of death by heart attack when he heard there was a dire emergency concerning the king of Mirkwood and he was needed in the bounds of the elven kingdom right away. Their time was already limited and ticking away in a constant taunt; he could not allow himself to expire just due to worry and he bolted to Mirkwood as fast as his most loyal steed could carry him.

Bard was flustered when he arrived and the guards quickly ushered him through the familiar catacombs of Thranduil’s lavish palace to bring him directly to Thranduil. As they went on, Bard’s regal garb felt like it was tightening around his heated body. He wished he could just strip himself of his cape, his tight, laced up dressings, and his worry all in one swoop.

Bard dismissed the guards as Legolas and Tauriel, posted in front of Thranduil’s quarters, came into view (because he somehow had gained the authority to do that – it just goes to show how respected the king of Dale was amongst the elven people). He could tell by the way the prince and the captain of the guard had their jaws locked and their eyes hardened that something was horribly wrong.

“I flew as swiftly as I could once the news befell my ears!” Bard huffed as he marched up to the two. He feared that when he came to a halt his legs would fail, but his strength remained through his tremoring. Thranduil was an immortal elf – what could possibly be so urgent? Could elves contract disease? Was he injured? Was he slipping away into the afterlife of the elven folk where Bard could never follow? A knife was twisting deep in his heart as his mind raced. “Where is he? Is he alright?”

“He resides within his chambers as we speak.” Legolas began. “I have never witnessed anything like this in all my days, mellon. It is befuddling to even the wisest eyes of this kingdom…this situation is most distressing. I am at a loss for a solution to this enigma.” Seeing the deep concern in the prince’s eyes, Bard reached forward and gave his hand a squeeze that he hoped would offer some sort of comfort. The corners of Legolas’ mouth curved in a subtle smile and he gave a nod of appreciation to his father’s lover who was so considerate to him always.

“I fear that time is of the essence. Our people look to Legolas and to you for guidance.” Tauriel spoke up and Legolas gave a confirming nod.

“I would like you by my side in trying to cure this plague that has been set upon ada, mellon.”

“Of course – anything, I’ll do it. Can I see him?”

“Yes, but I shall warn you: what you are about to see is not the Thranduil that you have come to know and it may be unsettling.”

“I can bear it.”

Bard prepared himself for the worst, images of his late-wife fading from the world of the living flashing behind his eyes against his will; he could not withstand another loss. As Tauriel and Legolas opened the double doors of Thranduil’s personal chambers, Thranduil’s distinctive scent came bursting out. Bard took in a sharp breath, reveling in his lover’s alluring scent, and raised his head before bravely crossing through the threshold. The sight that took his gaze was _utterly unfathomable_.

Everything within the chambers appeared to be in its normal, elegant state, except for the thing standing right in the dead center of it.

Bard stared down into the narrow, piercing blue eyes that were searing right through him under thick, furrowed brows. What this _thing_ was seemed to be a little elf boy who was maybe six years old by human standards – no, that’s exactly what it was: a little blonde elf boy with large pointed ears poking out from his loose, silvery hair. The boy wore a silver tunic that was so excessively large in size that it pooled around his feet. His cheeks were healthily round and pink, but he looked devilish in the way his alarmingly dark brows were fixed at a point. The boy said nothing and Bard said nothing.

“I…I think there’s some mistake.” Bard said hushedly over his shoulder to Legolas and Tauriel who looked nothing but serious.

“There is no mistake, mellon.” Legolas assured firmly and Bard shook his head.

“A joke, then? You do realize there is a little boy in an oversized shirt in there, right?”

Bard then let out a yelp of pain as his foot was stomped upon and he stumbled as the boy jetted out of the room bare of his ridiculously big clothes and dashed down the corridor yelling something unintelligible in elvish while Tauriel started after him.

“Well, now there is a _naked_ little boy running through the _palace halls_.” Legolas corrected, baring slight amusement in his grin.

“Legolas…wh… _what_ is going on?”

“We have come to the deduction that ada has somehow been reverted in age by some quality of magic. By what means, we have no certain answers, but we do suspect that our most recent wizard guest is responsible.”

“…Excuse me?” Bard blinked, consumed by pure confusion. Legolas heaved a patient sigh.

“Gandalf the Grey graced us with his presence recently. He departed earlier this morning and then I found ada in the state you just saw him in, so the wizard is our only lead on the mysterious matter.”

“Gandalf is a very _eccentric_ man, but _this_? I don’t believe this is even happening – why would he put all of Mirkwood in such a position?”

“I’m unable to even venture a guess at this time. We have sent scouts out to retrieve him, but until then, we are scrambling to find a cure for the strange curse. The kingdom shall not fall to its knees, no, but my ada cannot remain in this condition. His memories of being king and of everyone he knows have been hidden away from him. He does not recognize even me or this palace, for when he was an elfling the kingdom did not stand here. I believe it is important we do not confuse him by trying to refresh him with what is true.”

“Yes, I understand that…” It was amazing that Bard was able to understand anything regarding this scenario. “What do you want me to do?”

“I request that during this time you assist in maintaining balance in the diplomacy and business affairs of Mirkwood and watch after ada. Between you and I and Tauriel, I was hoping we could manage…but he is proving to be a very stubborn child. I do have to admit, it is a tad comical in a peculiar way.” Legolas finished with a smirk. He shook off the entertained expression and resumed a more relaxed face. “I know it is a lot to ask of you, mellon, but you are the next closest heir to the throne after me.”

“ _I am_?” Bard blurted. “This is news to me.”

“Mm…perhaps that wasn’t my news to tell…even so, do you accept my outreach to you?”

“I…yes, I accept. I will do anything I can to keep the kingdom stable and ensure that Thranduil remains safe and well.”

That was all easy for Bard to say because he genuinely meant it, but he had no idea what he was _really_ getting himself into.

Legolas and Bard wandered the palace grounds for a ridiculously long time looking for Tauriel, since she had likely found Thranduil by now (they hoped that was the case). Thankfully, she had caught up with him, but she wasn’t having an easy time. Her arms were hooked under Thranduil’s little armpits and she held him as far away from herself as she could, since he was kicking his feet zealously with the intention of escaping her superior grip. Bard and Legolas gladly averted their gazes anywhere that wasn’t Thranduil’s small, naked body – Thranduil would be beyond embarrassed for both of them to see such an awkward sight and they were a bit embarrassed themselves.

“According to the elders I’ve spoken with, his majesty was truly like this as a youngling!” Tauriel mused with an exasperated exhale and handed Thranduil off to Legolas. “I have retrieved him, but now I’m needed elsewhere. There must be more spider dens in the depths of the forest because they’ve resurfaced and are terrorizing the woodland creatures.”

“Spiders? I will come too, Tauriel.” Legolas said quickly and swiftly handed Thranduil off to Bard. “Will you be alright with him on your own?” Bard knew Legolas was a warrior at heart and he jumped at the chance to ward off the pest spiders from his precious kingdom walls, but the prince couldn’t hide his undeniable eagerness to get away from his troublesome child-father. Bard couldn’t blame him – what did Legolas know about taking care of children, and his father in a child’s mind and body, no less? Bard flashed a confident grin.

“Legolas, I have raised three children. I think I will be just fine.”

But he _wasn’t_ going to be “just fine”. As soon as Legolas and Tauriel turned their backs, Thranduil’s heel promptly, and with great force, met Bard’s groin. That was _definitely_ not the kind of attention Thranduil usually paid to that part of his body.

“That’s okay, I’m sure you didn’t mean it.” Bard muttered through clenched teeth. Thranduil turned his head, showing Bard his scowl.

“ _Are you_ sure? Because you’re wrong.” His high voice sounded. It was so precious, but not precious enough to cover the evil that his expression emanated.

“No matter…how about we go get you some clothes that fit?”

Bard was assured that he could tame little Thranduil – after all, it was still _Thranduil_ he was dealing with. Somewhere deep, deep, _deeeep_ in that little self of his, Thranduil was sure to remember that he at least had some sort of fondness for Bard and thus treat him kindly.

Bard thought the whole ordeal was a bit creepy, seeing as this _child_ was technically the man Bard constantly lusted after, but seeing Thranduil in this way made Bard’s heart swell with a different kind of adoration. Tiny Thranduil was _so cute!_ His eyes looked way too big for his face, he had an adorable button nose with a pink blush coloring the tip, and he hadn’t grown into his ears yet. 

This situation could end up being somewhat enjoyable for the both of them once they were getting along better and they could frolic, play games, read stories…

It had been so long since Bard had really devoted time to a very young child and he had always secretly wished for another of his own to take care of. In a weird sort of way, this was that wish coming true. Or a nightmare he’d never been so deranged to imagine coming true…yeah, it was that.

Bard’s hopes of playing with and coddling the cute little king were smashed further and further with every passing moment, and that was not an over exaggeration. Six year old Thranduil was _horrible_.

“Your facial hair is ugly. You look like you belong to nasty dwarf kind.” Thranduil whipped at him in that teensy, high pitched voice as Bard tried to get him somewhere where he could be put in properly fitting clothing.

Thranduil kept digging his heels into the floor when Bard pulled him along or he would just sit on the floor or run away. When Bard carried him the way Tauriel had, he shrieked like a banshee. When he hoisted him over his shoulder, Thranduil clawed his back, bit his shoulder and pulled his hair; surely not even a grown elf in battle would ever do such things like biting and pulling!

“ _Please_ , _Thranduil_ , once we get some clothes on you we can play.” Bard pleaded, hoping to appeal to his child like nature, but it did him no good. Thranduil wasn’t responding to Bard’s kind tactics.

Bard couldn’t believe that other elf children acted like this. There weren’t many around, but the ones he had seen always seemed calm like their parents and mentors. Maybe that was all a façade; maybe all elf children really were vile and _that’s_ why there were barely any to ever be seen! The King Thranduil that Bard knew would never tolerate such a thing! Had Legolas been like this, too? No, he couldn’t have been. For one thing, Legolas didn’t seem like the type of person that had been a fussy child and for two, Bard didn’t think there was any way in hell that Thranduil could ever handle that.

Finally, Bard did manage to find Thranduil some old clothes of Legolas’ that would fit perfectly; now _dressing him_ was the problem.

“I would never wear something so hideous. Gold is such a presumptuous color.” Thranduil complained as he swiped at the golden fabric with his tiny hand. The thing that was hilarious was Thranduil had _actually said that exact thing_ to Bard once before. Even still, for some reason he loved for Bard to wear gold because it apparently complimented his skin tone and he deserved to be presumptuous (according to Thranduil).

“This will have to do for now. You cannot go running around bare.” Bard said resolutely.

“Why, because it’s _un-princely_?” Thranduil snorted.

“Not only that, but also respectable little boys wear clothes. Don’t you want people to take you seriously?” Bard coaxed in his _dad voice_ – yes, Bard recognized his own dad voice. It was kind of hard not to notice.

“No one will take me seriously in _gold_.”

“I think that they would. Gold is a sign of regality.” Bard encouraged with an enthusiastic tone.

“I. Won’t. Wear. Gold. You. Ignorant. Peasant.”

“You could get sick running around outside naked, or you could get very badly hurt if you fall on your bare bum. Not to mention you are bound to get filthy.” Bard went on, ignoring the fact that he’d been called a peasant. He was a peasant once before and he wasn’t ashamed of that fact and he also didn’t see any reason to indulge in Thranduil’s arguing by correcting him on his current status as king of Dale.

“So what?” Thranduil retorted.

“I know how you hate being dirty.” Bard said, but he instantly regretted making such a statement, remembering what Legolas had said about Thranduil not remembering _anything_ or _anyone_. He expected Thranduil to question him, since he didn’t even know who Bard was and he claimed to know Thranduil didn’t like to be dirty, but he skipped over that point entirely.

“No I don’t! Dirt doesn’t bother me any!”

“I’m sorry, Thranduil, but for now this is it. When we get something better, I will have you changed right away. How does that sound?”

“That sounds like something I don’t want to do.”

“Unfortunately, you don’t have a choice in the matter.”

The first time Bard got him in the clothes was a battle that ended up in his lip bleeding. The second time Bard had to _re_ -dress him, he got punched in the eye, but Bard could be just as relentless as Thranduil and he had an immense amount of patience. He thought that the third time would be the charm, but when the fourth time came, he was starting to get angry.

“Thranduil, don’t make me yell.” Bard warned as Thranduil scurried away from him and sprinted from the bedroom. Bard stomped out into the corridor, sweating in his infernal, kingly clothes after trying to wrangle the boy into his wardrobe. “Thranduil, if I get to the count of three, you are in _big_ trouble!”

“One.”

“Find me something suitable to wear.” Thranduil called with a wave of his hand.

“ _Two_.”

Thranduil took a moment to pause, shake his naked butt at Bard, and go on his merry way.

“.......Three!” Thranduil cut into an all-out sprint down the hall now and Bard darted after him. “Thranduil, I said _three!_ ”

Thranduil had the advantage: he was small, fast, dexterous, and crafty. Bard was a mere mortal who couldn’t chase Thranduil once around the entire palace without getting tired and breathing heavily. Bard typically wasn’t one to yell to try to get his children to obey him, but his blood was boiling red hot with frustration and he could feel himself surpassing his limit of patience. They rounded back to where Thranduil’s chambers were held and Bard was starting to wonder why the hell no one else had tried to stop the damn kid.

“THRANDUIL I HAVE RAISED THREE CHILDREN AND SLAIN A DRAGON AND YOU ARE THE WORST OF ALL OF THEM YET!” Bard shouted and reached out to snag Thranduil’s shoulder while he was close. Bard swiftly knelt and turned Thranduil to face him while having a tight hold on the boy’s shoulder. Thranduil wasn’t wearing his usual scowl. Now he was pouting.

“Don’t yell at me.” He said with a wavering voice and Bard almost scoffed at his boldness; he had no right to tell Bard not to yell at this point.

“I gave you fair warning. I hope you’re proud that you have upset me. Are you happy with the way you’ve been acting and disrupting every single person in this palace? Hm?”

Thranduil did not answer him, but he also didn’t fight or run when Bard walked him into his chambers _again_. Bard turned the clothes right side out, letting himself simmer down before speaking again.

“Are you going to cooperate and put on your clothes or are you going to go without dinner?”

“You can’t starve me. You’re not even supposed to be here, stinky old man. You’re not an elf. Everyone here is an elf.”

“You’re right, I can’t let you starve, but I can deprive you of playtime which is not necessary to your survival. I wouldn’t like to do that, though. I really wouldn’t.”

“You can’t do that. You have no authority over me.”

“That’s not what matters.” Bard said as he looked over at Thranduil who was sitting on the bed wrapped in a blanket. “What matters is that I tried to be kind to you and give you a chance to do as you were told without trying to press authority on you and you took advantage of that. Now I can’t trust you and it’s a shame. I’m going to tell you one last time: please put on these clothes or I will not let you go out and have free play.”

“I’ll scream!” Thranduil yelled and Bard shrugged.

“So be it.”

Bard left the room and stood outside the doors. It was quiet for a few moments before the screaming and yelling commenced. Then there was crashing and banging and _more_ screeching…then silence…then crying and whining and silence again. Bard waited and waited until finally the expected happened. One of the doors swung open and Thranduil trudged out fully dressed in the gold outfit with puffy, watery eyes and severely reddened cheeks.

“I hope you cleaned up that mess in there before coming out here.” Bard commented.

Thranduil grunted and turned back in the room with a slam of the door. Bard could hear a lot of deliberately loud cleaning going on before Thranduil remerged.

“Alright! Now we can have fun. What do you want to do, Thranduil?” Bard said looking down at Thranduil and summoning a smile. Thranduil just glowered back at him.

“I want you to _leave me alone_.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t been so awful today I could do that. Young boys who misbehave don’t get rewarded. Now we can still do whatever you want to do, but only if I am with you.”

“Fine, but it will be the death of you.”

Bard _did_ say they could do whatever Thranduil wanted, but he immediately regretting saying so. What Thranduil wanted to do was go spider hunting, which Bard obviously had to say no to – how could Thranduil even think that Bard would possibly allow that? Bard’s refusal made Thranduil _furious_.

“You’re a liar! You said we could do what _I_ wanted!” Thranduil proclaimed with his cheeks glowing red with sudden rage yet again.

“What you want to do is very irrational and dangerous for a boy your age.” Bard disputed. “I thought maybe you’d like to play a game of some sort.”

“…A game?” Thranduil asked with a hint of interest in his tone, but he guardedly set his hands on his tiny hips. He pointed his nose up and frowned. “Your idea of a game better not be practicing writing, posture or reading history books because I’ll have no part of it.”

“Of course not!” Bard laughed and Thranduil blinked at him in surprise. “That doesn’t sound like much fun at all. We could do something like…like play tag, hide-and-go-seek, climb trees, race-”

“I’m going to climb the biggest tree in all Mirkwood! Race me there and watch me beat you!” Thranduil spat and took off.

Bard gave a tired sigh. That wasn’t _exactly_ what he had in mind; at least Thranduil seemed enthusiastic, but Bard had no idea where Thranduil was headed, so he willed his body to run after him for fear of losing him – god, losing a six year old king would be the ultimate disaster. Bard was not nearly as fast as young Thranduil - hell, Bard wasn’t as fast as _grown_ Thranduil, but he managed to keep at a pace where Thranduil was always within his sight. That was until they entered the forest.

“Thranduil, wait!” Bard called out, but Thranduil of course didn’t pause or slow even though he could hear Bard perfectly well. There was no winning with this kid. The little sneak was _intentionally_ drawing him deep into the dense forest and weaving through the trees to try to lose Bard and tire him out. His plan was working.

Bard was growing notably exhausted and made the mistake of stopping for five seconds to catch his breath; it didn’t help that he was clad in so many layers of rich clothing. When he looked up, the golden blur that was little Thranduil was gone, but finding him wasn’t hopeless. As Bard soaked in his surroundings, he recognized where he was and was baffled by the fact that Thranduil had dragged him this far into the forest and so close to its edge.

Yes, this was familiar – what a relief! Thranduil and Bard had been here before at Thranduil’s own suggestion. A light clicked on inside Bard’s head and he knew exactly where Thranduil was going. He was probably there already.

Bard traveled more languidly with his mind at ease as the serene sound of the rolling of river became present. He could see patches of blue between the trees and knew that he was very close to the water’s edge and his destination. He finally came to a halt and tipped his head up. Above were the beautiful, lush, vibrant colored treetops which he and Thranduil often found themselves admiring. As Bard gazed up at them, he missed _his_ Thranduil dearly. He craved to see his rare smile that made his chest tighten and hear his deep, lulling voice and feel his cool, slender fingers wrap around his. It only hurt so much to miss him now because it was like the Thranduil he knew _didn’t even exist_.

While scanning his eyes through the trees, Bard spotted the golden boy pulling himself up onto a high branch of the old, twisted tree which Thranduil had made a point of showing him. Mirkwood was a kingdom built within the woodland, but for some reason the king had sentimental attachment to this tree in specific. Perhaps it was a favorite of his as a child when he lived closer to the heart of the forest when it was its most lively green, Bard thought. Clearly, whatever value Thranduil held for this tree, it carried over through the spell he was under.

“Be careful up there.” Bard called as he leaned against a tree trunk opposite of the enormous twisted one that Thranduil was swinging on. Thranduil’s eyes shot down right into Bard’s and he furrowed his brows.

“How did you find me? You’re much too slow to have followed me all the way here!” he shouted and Bard gave an innocent shrug. “Well, you’re not allowed up here so don’t bother coming up to get me!”

“Can you see them from up there?” Bard asked and Thranduil’s eyes narrowed.

“See _what_?”

“The elks. They graze not too far from here. You might be able to see them from up there.”

The elks were a majestic sight, indeed. Bard never imagined that such a creature existed until one fine spring afternoon when he saw them lapping up the water from the river as he pushed down it on his barge. Bard was alarmed by the presence of the tall, exquisite creature at first glance when Thranduil had rode one into Dale those two years ago when they first met, but he soon learned how much Thranduil cared for the elks when his most cherished was struck down in battle. Thranduil did not keep it as a pet, but loved and respected it as a friend and a part of his world.

Thranduil found solace in his loss by standing on the border of their grazing pastures and watching the elks intently and fondly. Bard knew by the look in Thranduil’s moon-like eyes that he had done this before and every time they quietly watched the elks after that, Bard loved to watch Thranduil more than anything as he become so entranced by them.

“I know that.” Thranduil sneered a little less cruelly than what was typical of him. His tone was alluding to the suggestion that he was there solely to see the elks. Thranduil skillfully brought himself up a few more branches before glaring down at Bard again. “How do you know about them? Who are you, anyway?”

“My name is Bard…I’m a friend. I know about the elks because I have seen them drink at the riverside.” Bard supplied.

“Mortal names are unappealing.” Thranduil criticized flatly.

Bard waited patiently as Thranduil sat idly in the tree facing the elk pastures and he kept his eyes locked on the boy. He knew that Thranduil had the capability of disappearing in the blink of an eye. The young Thranduil swung his legs perched up on his branch and tilted his head from side to side while humming to himself. As the sunlight began noticeably dwindling away, Bard spoke up.

“Darkness will fall soon, Thranduil. We should get back to the palace before then.”

“You better be going then.” Thranduil commanded.

“Once you come down, we can start back.”

“I’m not coming down.”

“The elks will be still be there tomorrow, I promise you.” Bard said hearteningly, but his kindness was negated by a stone bouncing off his head. “Hey! That wasn’t a very nice thing to do!”

“I don’t care if it was nice!” he shrieked very shrilly and stood up. “Don’t you _get it_?! I don’t care about you or anyone else and I don’t want to be near you! I DON’T CARE!”

“I’m sure you don’t mean that, Thranduil.” Bard spoke softly and Thranduil hurled another stone down at him; this time Bard managed to block it.

“I _do!_ And why are you calling me that?!”

“What, _your name?”_

“Yes!”

“Because it’s your name, of course. Why else? Come on, Thranduil, don’t make me come up there.”

“No, you’re not allowed! I won’t let you!” Bard approached the twisted tree and as soon as he planted his foot on it, Thranduil gave a loud, roaring groan and started to clamber down. “I’d rather be miserable than have you sully this magnificent tree!”

As soon as Thranduil was within his reach, Bard reached out to help him down the rest of the way, but Thranduil just shoved him away and jumped down. Bard knelt down to Thranduil’s level and met his burning gaze. There was a collection of tears in his intricately crafted golden wardrobe and his silvery hair was the messiest Bard had ever seen it.

“What has you so troubled? Why are you so angry with everyone?” Bard questioned gently.

“Everyone calls me ‘your highness’, ‘your majesty’, ‘your grace’, ‘prince’ and all that and they try to braid my hair and make me do things I don’t want to do so I hate them! I _don’t_ want to be a prince, I _don’t_ want braids in my hair, I _don’t_ want to wear stuffy clothing and crowns, and I _don’t_ want to take useless lessons!” he spoke passionately and a distressed noise resonated in his chest as his eyes began to water.

“Who wanted you to do all that?”

“Everyone! My naneth and ada, Legolas and Tauriel, and everyone else!”

“Your parents?” Bard asked and arched an eyebrow and Thranduil gave a vigorous nod as tears began spilling onto his plump cheeks. The mention of his parents was startling, seeing as they both had passed way before Bard’s time and Legolas stated that Thranduil had no recollection of anyone; that much had been apparent. It was clear to Bard now that he been reverted back to an actual point in his life, clinging to memories of his young age and treating them as reality. He wasn’t just a king put under a quirky spell that transformed his body to that of a six year old – his mind had been transformed along with his body and he was truly his six year old self again.

“I just want to play and watch the elks. I don’t care if I get dirty.” he said with trembling breath as he wiped his nose on his tattered sleeve.

Thranduil would _never_ wipe his nose on his sleeve. Thranduil _never_ griped when his subjects called him by his title and he _never_ complained about receiving jewels or the gorgeous, detailed attire that he always wore that was especially designed for him. He always accepted gifts with grace, strode with poise, spoke with eloquence, took care in his penmanship and spewed endless knowledge about the entire realm. Something wasn’t matching up.

“I didn’t want you to do any of those things…besides wearing the clothes, of course. I want you to play and do what your heart desires just as much as you do…I know it must not be easy for you to trust that.” Bard offered.

“I’m going back now.” Thranduil said and briskly turned away.

Bard and Thranduil trudged back to the palace in silence. Once they arrived, the sky was dim and sparsely lit with stars. There were fires being built outdoors to commence the night parties the elves so loved. Bard didn’t bother trying to get Thranduil into some new clothes (his lip was still sore and his eye still throbbing from dressing four times earlier). Now there was a new obstacle: getting him to eat.

“Where are you going?” Bard asked as Thranduil started the opposite way of the grand dining hall.

“To my chambers where I can be alone.” Thranduil answered dully, continuing down the hall.

“What about dinner?”

“What about it?”

“You have to eat, Thranduil. Aren’t you hungry after running around all day?”

“No.” Bard caught up with Thranduil and stopped in front of him. Thranduil tried to bypass him, but Bard rested his hand firmly on Thranduil’s head. Thranduil slapped at it and pushed him off, but Bard gave him a stern look. “ _What?”_

“You know what. Earlier you said I can’t let you starve, so you have to eat.”

“I don’t want to be around all those people.”

“You don’t even have to change your clothes. If anyone complains, you refer them to me.”

Bard was ecstatic when Thranduil gave in without any more argument. Perhaps there was some progress being made because convincing him to go to the grand dining hall was the easiest thing he’d done all day. Along the way, Bard stopped one of the guards and requested a message be sent back to his children in Dale to let them know everything would be alright, but he wasn’t sure when he would be back next. The guard, with a curt nod, went swiftly away and Thranduil tugged hard on Bard’s cape.

“Yes?” Bard asked.

“You live in Dale?”

“Yes, I do.”

“That’s close to my home, Greenwood the Great. Surely you’ve heard of it.”

“I have.” Bard said, feeling a guilt strain his heart. Thranduil didn’t know that Greenwood the Great was no longer, that his early home had been darkened by a sinister power, and that he and the elves had been forced northward to where they resided now in Mirkwood to keep evil forces at bay.

“Where are we, exactly?” Thranduil inquired non-belligerently.

“An elf colony not far from your home.”

“There are no elves that live outside the bounds of Greenwood the Great.” Thranduil said raising a skeptical brow.

“Oh, but there are. We’re here, aren’t we?”

“Well, then why are you here?”

“I’m here to…keep up relations with your kingdom.” Well, it was pretty much true.

“Why are you with me, then?”

“Well…the person I came to see had something come up very suddenly, so I figured while I was here I would spend time with you.”

“Are you here to talk to my ada?”

“Yes.” Now that was a full on lie, but what was he supposed to say?

“Do you know where he is?”

“I don’t.”

“He must be around; most likely he is speaking with whoever leads these rogue elf people. So what, are you an ambassador or something?”

“Sort of like that.”

“What do you mean _sort of_? It’s a yes or no question.” He pressed more aggressively.

“I am many things. An ambassador is one of those things.”

“What else?”

“Well, I happen to be the king.” Bard admitted in fear of losing what bit of bond they had going if he dodged the question. Thranduil halted cold in his tracks and his mouth stretched out wide in an ear-to-ear grin before bursting out into hysterical laughter. Bard’s eyes widened in shock of the reaction entirely; Thranduil was laughing gleefully which was a happy sight to see, but it was also a giant insult. He laughed so hard that he knelt on the floor with his hand over his stomach. Bard knew he should have been offended, but he couldn’t help but smile. The ringing laugh of a child, of Thranduil, made his heart flutter. “What?”

“ _You_ , the _KING_?  HA! Isn’t that a trick of fate!” Thranduil choked as he stood and wiped his joyful tears. “Phew…are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“ _BAHAHAHAHA_!” he broke out again and fell onto the floor.

“Okay, laugh it up.” Bard encouraged and tolled his eyes fondly at the boy.

“ _Hoo_ , _hoo_ …alright, alright, I’m finished.” Thranduil said standing again and his grin relaxed into a subtle smile.

“Come on, hooligan.”

“I am no hooligan, thank you very much.” Thranduil corrected and strutted forward into the grand dining hall, but he swiftly turned right back around and bumped into Bard’s legs.

“What’s wrong?”

“I changed my mind.” Thranduil said quickly.

Bard turned him manually and rested his hand on Thranduil’s back, guiding him into the laughter filled room. As Thranduil trotted toward the empty seat at the head of the table, everyone fell quiet and their gazes set on him. Bard pulled out the head chair for Thranduil and he looked at it questioningly.

“Go on, this seat is for you.” Bard coaxed and Thranduil climbed clumsily up into the chair with Bard pushing him closer to the table. He seated himself next to Legolas in the chair diagonal of Thranduil and Tauriel was seated across from the prince

“Oh, how precious!” one of the elven maidens chimed as she ogled at Thranduil and Thranduil stuck his tongue out at her. A soft chuckling rose from a few of the subjects around the table at this and Bard gave a nervous chortle.

“I was beginning to worry about you; where have you two been all day?” Legolas whispered.

“After I got him clothed he ran off into the forest. He wanted to watch the elks, and so he did.” Bard replied, glancing at Thranduil from the corner of his eye to see he was slumped in his chair.

“Have things been faring well?” Legolas asked.

“Err…more or less. He has definitely calmed quite a bit since earlier.”

“Your eye looks to be… _swollen_.”

“Yes, he’s a squirmy one.” Bard said, laughing off his injuries. “Any word on Gandalf?”

“Unfortunately not.”

“Goodness, your majesty. What happened to your clothes?” a voice rose and Thranduil gave a lame shrug.

“What’s it to you?” he retorted and more adoring laughter followed which sparked a twinge of anger in him. “Stop laughing at me!”

“My apologies, your highness.” The same voice said and Thranduil crossed his arms.

“Would you like for me to put some food on your plate for you ad – uh, your highness?” Legolas spoke up.

“I’ll do it myself.” Thranduil said and stood in his chair, leaning across the table and sticking his hand in the bunch of grapes. The subjects gasped and stared in awe as he picked off what he wanted and then threw the bunch back into the bowl.

“Perhaps some utensils would be more effective, your majesty.” Tauriel suggested and Thranduil shot her a glare before throwing a grape at her head. The room gasped loudly as Thranduil stepped on the table. Bard reached out to try to stop him, but Thranduil was quick and marched all the way down to the center of the table, picked up a fork, and stabbed a piece of meat with it.

“Thanks, that _was_ effective.” Thranduil said flashing an overbearing and mocking grin at Tauriel and then skipping back to his end of the table and jumping into his chair. He proceeded to pick the meat up with his hands and bit into it, shaking his head to tear off a section. Bard had to stifle his laughter because the rest of the company in the grand dining hall was _definitely_ not amused.

When a servant tried cutting his meat for him, Thranduil threw the meat at his face. The next servant, who was notably apprehensive about approaching Thranduil, served him water. When Thranduil asked to try some wine and the servant refused, Thranduil knocked his cup from the table. Legolas asked if Thranduil had washed before dinner, so Thranduil spit in his hands and rubbed them together in lieu of washing. When asked about his lessons, Thranduil blatantly said he hadn’t gone to any and he wasn’t going to. As the inquirer persisted that he should pursue his lessons, Thranduil swore something nasty in elvish. When someone suggested he stop banging his utensils on his plate in an off-beat rhythm, Thranduil had had enough. He sprung from his seat and knocked over a tall vase as he made a fiery exit from the grand dining hall.

“I thought you said he’d calmed down?” Legolas asked and Bard smiled awkwardly.

“At least no one got hurt this time.”

Bard raced after Thranduil and guessed by the trail of clothes in the hall that he fled to his room. He was luckily right in his assumption and found Thranduil punching pillows on his once appropriately sized king bed in the nude.

“What was all that about?” Bard asked and Thranduil flung the pillow at him.

“I don’t like them! They were _smothering me!”_

“I think you may just be overtired. It’s been a very long day.” Bard sighed. He was certainly tired enough for the both of them.

“I’m not going to bed.”

“Then what do you intend on doing?”

“…I don’t know. It’s none of your business anyway.”

“What about a bath?”

“No!”

“Choose: bath or bed.”

“Neither.”

“ _You_ were the one being impolite at dinner. We’ve been over this. Boys who misbehave-”

“Don’t get to do what they want, yeah, I know.” Thranduil cut in with a dramatic roll of his eyes.

“So which will it be?”

“You can’t _make_ me do either, so I’m not picking!”

And so a war over the bathtub ensued. Thranduil was already stripped out of his clothes, so that was a start. Bard carried the flailing, screaming little elf to his reserved bathing room. Bard ordered the water be prepared right away and then had to chase Thranduil, who was spraying perfumes and breaking vials of shampoos and soaps, all over. Thranduil ended up chasing Bard with a coiled up towel that he kept snapping at Bard until the king of Dale finally got a good grip on the towel and pulled it, and Thranduil who was still holding onto it, up in the air. He carried the boy hanging from the towel to the ready bath and Thranduil tried to swing away to no avail. He splashed into the water and instantly started shoving it at Bard.

“Don’t waste the water!” Bard scolded and set his shampoo lathered hands into Thranduil’s wet hair.

Thranduil grumbled the entire time and insisted on washing up himself after Bard had done his hair for him. Then he didn’t want to get out. _It would never end_.

Bard had to plunge his arms deep into the bath and pluck the boy out who desperately clung to the edges and started sobbing when he was brought out of the water. Bard wrapped him and his hair in a towel and forced a night shirt onto the little king once he was decently dry.

Thranduil sat against his plethora of pillows and how small he was compared to the rest of the bed made Bard chuckle lightly.

“Now my skin is all wrinkly.” Thranduil complained as he examined his hands with disgust.

“If you had gotten out when I asked it wouldn’t be.” Bard said as he pulled the blankets over Thranduil’s lap. The boy was sticking his fingers in his ears and twisting at the ends of them like he’d been doing in the bath. “Did you get water in your ears?”

“No, I just hate them. They’re big and ugly…I suppose you and my ears have a lot in common.”

“I think they’re lovely ears and I am sure that you will grow into them.” Bard said softly as he finished off drying Thranduil’s hair with the towel draped around his shoulders. Once Thranduil spotted the hairbrush in his hand, he tried to snatch it away, but Bard had bested him that time. “Would you like to brush your hair yourself?”

“No, it always hurts! I wouldn’t like to have it brushed at all!”

“You don’t want to have knots in your beautiful hair; I will be gentle if you let me.”

Thranduil’s only response was a cross of his arms, so Bard sat behind him and gingerly started combing the brush’s teeth through the bottom of Thranduil’s hair and going upward from there. He hummed very quietly to himself and Thranduil gave no complaints. He was perfectly quiet and still.

“You said you slayed a dragon before?” Thranduil spoke up.

“Yes, I did.”

“What was the dragon’s name?”

“I can’t remember.” Bard lied, avoiding any confusion from the boy if he somehow remembered Smaug’s existence.

“I don’t think I like dragons.”

“They aren’t very kind creatures.” Bard agreed.

“Were you scared?”

“I was very scared, but I had to face him. He was putting a lot of people in danger, including my family.”

“Do you have children?”

“Yes; three.”

“Hm. Are you done yet?”

“Almost.”

“I’m going to brush yours.”

“You may, if you’d like. I warn you, my hair is much curlier than yours. You must promise to be careful.”

“I promise!”

Thranduil kept good on his promise; Bard sat on the floor and Thranduil up on the bed so Thranduil could reach properly. Thranduil took his time, separating the hair into sections and brushing them all out thoroughly. Bard at one point could feel strands of his hair being twisted together.

“What are you doing?” he asked cautiously.

“Braiding.” Thranduil answered simply.

“I thought you didn’t like braids?”

“I don’t like having _my_ hair in braids.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Aren’t you tired of me yet?”

“I’m tired, but never tired of you, my little friend.”

“That’s annoying.”

“What, you don’t want any friends?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You should be a little kinder to people, then.”

“Not _those_ people.”

“What kind of people?”

“People like you.”

“Like me? You’ve given me nothing but trouble!” Bard laughed, but Thranduil wasn’t laughing. Thranduil’s small fingers had stopped working in his hair and so Bard stood to look at him; his expression had turned very sullen.

“You’re the only one who listens to what I have to say and lets me do some of the things I like.”

“Then why are you so stubborn and mean to me?”

“Because it’s better for me to just be alone!” Thranduil’s voice rose. “What good are you to me? You’re a mortal. You’re already half dead.”

Of all the things Thranduil had said and done that day, that hurt the worst. The grown Thranduil who Bard shared his deepest secrets, feelings and fears with knew Bard’s extreme fear of death. This fear had only woken in Bard when he had fallen dreadfully in love with the immortal Thranduil. Every day, he felt himself getting and looking older as Thranduil remained youthful and pristine and it frightened him to no end. Thranduil assured him that his love for him was never ending, no matter what he looked like, but that was such a hard thing to truly believe on Bard’s part. They both suffered from knowing their time together was finite; Bard couldn’t stand the thought of being gripped by the shadows of death and of leaving his children and Thranduil behind to mourn him.

Bard’s eyes clouded with tears and he cleared his throat as he rose from the bed. He felt as if he would explode into a destitute fit of weeping over every wretched thought of mortality flooding over him, but he had to wait until he was out of Thranduil’s sight.

“I’ll leave you to rest. Goodnight.”

“Wait!” Thranduil said and scrambled from his blankets with large, doe-eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“It’s alright, Thranduil. You cannot change the way I was born.” Bard said through his forced smile, trying to let him know that all would be okay, but the truth was somewhere in the little mind of his and Thranduil knew things wouldn’t be okay.

“You’re my only friend… _I’m sorry_.” Thranduil wrapped his fingers around one of Bard’s and he pressed his soft cheek against it. Bard bent over and kissed the boy’s head lovingly as he held back the purging of his sadness. “Will you stay here? You know, so I can make sure you don’t stay sad.”

“I suppose.” Bard laughed shakily and Thranduil patted a spot next to him on the bed.

Bard removed his cape and jerkin so he would have a few less layers and then climbed under the covers. Thranduil sprawled himself out over Bard’s chest and Bard rubbed his silken hair, thinking back to when his children would doze on his chest when they were teeny. Bard stayed awake for some time after Thranduil had fallen into a well-needed rest with his head swimming around what he’d said. “ _You’re already half dead_ ”. That was going to scar him for the rest of his life.

 

As Bard pried his eyes open, he groaned tiredly. He had slept very heavily when he finally fell asleep, but he was still tired from the hellish babysitting of Thranduil the day before. His legs were massively sore and he dreaded having to play round two with Thranduil in this condition.

Bard rolled over in the bed expecting to see Thranduil gone, but he was there sound asleep – and a _grown man!_

Bard screamed and fell from the bed with Thranduil waking very urgently.

“What’s wrong?!” Thranduil exclaimed in his deep voice and Bard popped up from the floor with a very manic look in his eyes – no high pitched voice. He didn’t say anything as he reached forward and stroked Thranduil’s strong, thin face. No button nose, no round cheeks. He flipped the blanket over to see Thranduil was completely nude and he was _colossally tall_.

“…Thranduil?” Bard whispered.

“…Bard?” Thranduil whispered back with a raised brow and Bard sounded an alarming noise of rejoice.

“THANK THE GODS!” Bard yelled and leapt onto the fully grown, beautiful King Thranduil that he missed so profoundly. Thranduil tentatively wrapped his arms around Bard and pat his back.

“I…missed you as well, nîn meleth, but what are you doing here?” Thranduil spoke smoothly and Bard felt like he would burst with happiness as he heard that voice and looked upon his refined, mature face.

“What am _I_ doing here? What are you – do you remember anything?” Bard questioned and Thranduil gracefully rubbed his tired eyes.

“I remember falling asleep last night, but _you_ were not here. Has my indulgence in wine really taken me so far from my mind? Did you slip in while I was in deep slumber to surprise me?” he asked grinning tiredly with his fingertips ghosting along Bard’s jaw.

“No, I did not. I was here all along; I can’t believe you don’t remember any of it.” Thranduil now looked at him with narrowed, uncertain eyes.

“You woke me with screaming and now you’re speaking very evasively. What are you talking about? What don’t I recall?”

“Yesterday you were a _boy!_ An _elfling boy!”_ Bard blurted and Thranduil’s expression remained stiff. “You were, it was Gandalf! Gandalf the wizard turned you into your younger elfling self! I got news that something had happened, so I rushed here and took care of you all day and night.”

“What a wild dream.” Thranduil mused as his pink lips curved into an entertained smile and his slender fingers ran back through Bard’s locks only to stop at some obstruction. “You braided your hair?”

“No, _you_ did and what I experienced was no dream. Ask anyone in all of Mirkwood and they will tell you the same, my dearest love. I beg you, if you love me, you will believe me.”

“I am sorry to say that I do not believe this, Bard. Please now, enough with the silliness. I am very tired – why don’t we lie together just a while longer, hm?”

Thranduil’s beckoning and his relaxed body were very inviting, but Bard could not let the truth go unknown. Much to Thranduil’s displeasure, Bard stalked off to find Legolas and bring him back to Thranduil’s chambers where he still laid naked beneath his sheets in his lavish bed. Legolas gave Thranduil a similar greeting, hugging him closely and praising the Valar that his dear ada had been returned to normal, affirming all of Bard’s statements.

“What a peculiar phenomenon– I only wish I could remember it!” Thranduil finally said, letting the idea settle within him as truth. With Legolas already at his side, he waved Bard forward and held them both an arm around each and kissed their heads. “My loves, I am happy to have returned to you. I hope I was not too much of a burden.” With that, Bard and Legolas both exchanged a look that indicated Thranduil was far from a pleasantry to deal with.

 

“I am honest when I say you called me an ignorant, filthy peasant.” Bard said as he strode arm in arm with his tall, fair, and beloved king over the fallen leaves resting on the forest ground.

“Impossible; never to you would I sling such harsh words.” Thranduil said with a shake of his head.

“I tell you, it’s true! You didn’t much like my name or any part of me for that matter. The first time I touched you, you gave me a kick in my lower area.”

“Did I now?”

“I would not make up stories of such pain.” Bard laughed and Thranduil chuckled softly.

“I sincerely apologize for my antics; you will be more properly apologized to later and your wounds will be tended to by myself to show you how sorry I am.”

Thranduil then turned Bard so that they faced each other and he graced him with ethereal smile before bringing their lips together under the warmth of the sun that was peeking through the treetops above. Even after witnessing the strangest act of magic he would ever see, Bard felt as though _this_ moment was truly magical. How had he come to be kissing an elf king under the ancient trees he ruled? It was all like a dream, a lovely dream that Bard never wished to be roused from. Thranduil held him so close that he could feel their hearts beating against each other as their passion escalated. As Thranduil evoked soft moans from Bard, his tongue gliding over his lips and his teeth skimming over them gently in his comforting kisses, Bard was swept away by a powerful feeling and gripped Thranduil’s back tightly. This startled the elf at first, but the shaking gasp that Bard drew in was even more concerning. Thranduil created a bit of distance between them and grabbed Bard’s chin before he could pursue his lips, examining Bard’s flustered expression and his glassy eyes.

“Why do you cry?” Thranduil asked tenderly and his grip around the mortal man became firmer, wanting to assure Bard that he was safe.

“I feared I’d never have you back, that you would be trapped forever in that spell and I would have never had a last chance to tell you how much I love you.” Bard cried and Thranduil smiled at him in response.

“We are together now, free of spells.”

“But not free of fear.”

“Is anyone ever?”

“You told me that I was…”

“Yes?”

“You told me I was _half dead_ , Thranduil.”

Thranduil’s expression fell morose and he quickly brought his hand to caress Bard’s wet cheeks with his eyes unwaveringly connected to Bard’s.

“Nîn meleth, I did not mean those words and you know so. I would never hurt you in such a cruel way intentionally. Those words, they were a child’s foolish mistake.”

“But they are true words…look at me, Thranduil. The wrinkles on my skin grow longer each day, the white hairs on my head are starting to be too many to count, and the aches in my body are ever overpowering-”

“No more talk of aging. You’ll send yourself into a spiraling pit of wallowing, and I would not want that for you. Let us spare each other of pain now while we live together in this world.”

“Yesterday…yesterday you took me to the twisted tree,” Bard spoke as he composed himself with calmer breaths. “What does it mean, Thranduil?”

“You’re asking about the meaning of the tree?”

“Yes.”

“When I was young, I was a spirit far from home. I wanted nothing to do with ruling this land, and so I ran from it whenever I could to that very tree. My father was very delicate, knowing exactly where I went each time and only ever coming to sit with me and talk of flowers, animals, and stars. I like to return to the tree to remember those days and especially my father.”

“Do you regret being king?”

“Absolutely not. If I were not, I would have never met you, Bard.”

“And you shall not come to regret meeting me once I have gone?”

“You will never have gone, Bard.” Thranduil spoke hushedly and leaned his forehead against Bard’s. “Forever will you stay in my heart and in this wood. I could never regret meeting the one who taught me I could love again and there will never be another like you. If the Valar is generous, once your soul has departed from this physical world, they will bring me to my end so I may not suffer. Legolas will reign king and perhaps we will be reunited once more for all eternity.”

“But I thought elves and mortals did not share afterlives?”

“And I also thought magic couldn’t transform me into my former, young self, but I was wrong. Magic is more powerful than we know, Bard. If we believe in it, it may just be real.”

The thought of this brightened Bard’s expression immensely, therefore lightening Thranduil’s heavy heart. Thranduil set his hand on Bard’s hip and clasped his hand in the other, and Bard immediately responded by laying his hand over Thranduil’s shoulder. They danced, gracefully twirling among the shuffling leaves and thinking that this moment in time was theirs and theirs alone to cherish; little did they know, they were wrong about that. A very old and grey wizard, grey in more way than one, was laughing giddily to himself from a nearby tree as he set a spell on the pair, drizzling sparkles over their dance of love and ensuring with his power that in one way or another, the two would have a happy end.

**Author's Note:**

> This was intended to be merely a fluff piece with no angst, but somehow it got really deep and I sort of just rolled with it. In the end, I just couldn't end things sadly for Thranduil and Bard, so the ending was left to a happy interpretation! May they live long and happy together whether it is in life or after. <3


End file.
